Tracks To Love (Birdsong Series)

by Alice Addy

  Evie kept to herself and spoke to no one. She watched silently from the sidelines as the children played at running games, skipped, or chased the ball. She couldn’t speak, without the children making ugly faces at her and calling her a baby. True to her word, she was strong and never cried . . . but she did worry.

  The children were all talking excitedly, about an orphan train that took homeless children out West. They’d been told, that very soon, they would all be taken aboard such a train and travel to farms, ranches, and small towns. There, they’d find families of their own, with good people that wanted children.

  The orphans were happy to be leaving the city and the care of the Children’s Aide Society, but Evie had made up her mind, not to go. After all, she wasn’t an orphan; she had a papa. How could he find her if she got on the train? He might get lost.

  When the big day finally arrived, the children were scrubbed clean, given new clothes to wear, and carried a little suitcase packed with all their possessions. Their names were stenciled across the front. Some parents came to say a tearful farewell to their child. With tears flowing down their wan faces and arms wrapped tightly around one another, they promised to reunite as soon as they could afford it.

  Miss Martha promised Evie that she would continue to look for her papa, and when he came home, she’d tell him where Evie went. But Evie didn’t want to go. She’d rather wait for her papa to come and find her. She wanted to stay with Miss Martha, and she refused to get on that train!

  “Come on, girlie. Behave yourself and get on that train,” the fat matron shouted. “There are three hundred children on this train, and I swear you give us more trouble than any of the others. Now quit acting like a baby and get yourself on board!” This lady was not very nice, Evie decided, not like the kind lady who took her from her mama. She liked Miss Martha because she didn’t make her feel different.

  Unfortunately, Evie was a very small girl and the fat woman was accustomed to dealing with unruly children. It wasn’t much of a contest of wills. The woman practically threw the little girl up the steps, and tossed her cardboard suitcase up behind her. Evie knew all was lost.

  Feeling defeated and resigned, Evie glanced around the train car, and saw things she had never before imagined. It was pretty, she thought. The seats were soft and covered in a dark green cloth with patterns. The lights on the walls were shiny brass and the windows were large, letting in a lot of light and fresh air. All the children were excited and jumping up and down, bouncing in and out of their seats. Some ran back and forth in the aisle. Everyone was celebrating—everyone except Evie.

  She noticed a quieter group of children near the rear of the train car. They seemed to be content to gaze out the windows or glance at the books they’d brought with them. One boy was content to stare at Evie.

  She tightened her lips across her teeth, took a deep breath, and sat in the vacant seat next to his.

  “What’s your name?” the boy asked, after they’d ridden in total silence for most of the day. “Don’t talk much, d-d-do you?”

  She turned her cornflower blue eyes up at him and thought he had a friendly face. She wondered if he would be nice to her. His eyes were very pretty. One was brown and the other was almost blue. How interesting, she thought. Evie decided to sit there and look at him for a while.

  “Can’t you t-t-talk? My name is Butch, and I’m gonna go out and find me a ma and pa. Is that what you’re gonna d-d-do?”

  He talked funny, but Evie liked him just the same. Her mama said she talked funny, too. She decided to show him her foot, and if he wanted to be her friend after that, then she would talk to him. She raised her skirt up over her unlaced shoe and watched his face wrinkle, waiting for the laughter.

  “Your shoe’s untied. You want me to t-t-tie it for you?”

  He wasn’t going to laugh at her twisted foot. She almost smiled, forgetting for a moment how miserable she was.

  Butch got down and bent over her foot. He carefully tied the shoe so it wouldn’t be too tight on her ankle. “You’ve got a lame leg, huh.” It was really more of a statement than a question. “Does it hurt much?”

  Evie shook her head.

  “Look, I know you ain’t happy about bein’ here, but you’re here, just the same, so you might as well make the b-b-best of it. Think of it as an adventure and you might get a ma and a pa at the end of it all.” He meant to cheer the little girl up, but it drew the opposite response.

  “I got a papa!” she shouted. “He’th in the army. I don’t want another one.” She stuck out her chin in a most obstinate manor.

  “Well, at least now I know you can t-t-talk,” he chuckled. “What’s your name?”

  Evie grimaced and thought . . . not again. It was always the same. People would ask her name and she would tell them it was Evie, but they never repeated it back correctly. She couldn’t make them hear it the way it truly was. So, one day, she just stopped telling people her name. She took a deep breath and tried one more time—just for Butch.

  “E-bbie.”

  “Ebbie?” he questioned. “That’s odd. Never heard that name before, but I think it’s p-p-pretty. It must be French.”

  Evie sighed and rolled her eyes.

  *

  The train traveled for six days before it stopped in Independence, Missouri. The children were herded off and escorted to the courthouse. They gathered in several rooms, waiting to be called in front of the townspeople. The older children were called first, as they were the most requested for work. Evie and Butch were in the last group.

  People walked right past the little girl, as if she was invisible. One or two made a face when they noticed her foot, but no one said anything to her.

  It was almost as bad for Butch. Evie was surprised to learn that most of the men thought he was too small for a boy his age, and would most likely be useless for their needs. She didn’t see anything wrong with her friend. These people were not very smart, she decided, and besides, she was secretly glad he hadn’t been chosen.

  Most of the people were old and smelled bad. Evie remembered her mama—how she smelled like roses and how pretty she was. Papa said he had the two prettiest girls in all of New York. These were strangers, and they had strange ways about them. Some smiled, but most did not. They were very serious when it came to selecting help on their farms.

  “That child has a twisted foot. You have some nerve trying to push a lame one off on us. What good is she going to be to anyone?” Evie heard a woman complain to one of the matrons.

  “Well, you don’t have to take her. She’s a trouble to us, anyway. I honestly don’t know what will become of her. But you never know. There might be some poor woman out there with a heart bigger than her brain.” The two women shared a good laugh.

  Evie cringed. They were talking about her as if she was deaf and dumb. Was her bad leg such a terrible thing? She could walk. She could work. Her mama let her help around the house, all the time, and said she did a fine job. Evie was just as good as anybody. Her papa said so.

  Some of the children went away happily, with the strangers, but most got back on the train. This was repeated four or five times, each day, depending on how close the towns were together. If there was a train depot—the Orphan Train made a stop. Evie was getting tired and grumpy. She wanted to run away, but where would she go?

  The children had been riding on the train for more than two weeks. They were all tired and the excitement of adventure had waned, long ago. One night, after most of the children had departed for homes of their own, Evie was overcome with sadness and felt abandoned. As much as she loved her mama and papa, and as much as they loved her, she realized that no one else loved her. Even though she did not want to go with the strangers, gathered at the train stops, their constant rejections and cruel comments hurt. She couldn’t help but feel that something was very wrong with her. Butch was her only friend and what would she do when someone adopted him?

  As she pondered this question, she heard a soothing
sound come from the seat beside her. It was Butch singing softly. It was a lovely tune about a family of rabbits that lived on a hill. Evie noticed that he didn’t stutter when he sang. Maybe she wouldn’t lisp if she sang with him. She smiled up at Butch. She loved him very much.

  “That’th a pretty thong,” she lisped. He didn’t make fun of her speech, and for that, she was grateful. “Thing it again, pleath.”

  He grinned and nodded; flattered that she liked his attempt at comforting her. Butch sang for Evie until her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off to dreamland. While she slept peacefully, Butch stared down at her dirty little face. He normally didn’t care for girls, but Evie was different. Her hair was the prettiest color he’d ever seen and it was so shiny. He couldn’t ignore the impulse to touch it lightly. He chuckled to himself as he watched it curl around his finger, as if it were something alive. Carefully, he leaned over and inhaled its fragrance. It was sweet—not like a boy’s. Butch noticed her lashes were dark and fanned out wide across her pink cheeks. Evie reminded him of a china doll he had once seen in a store window.

  Evie stirred and drew her thumb close to her mouth, but she resisted placing it inside. Even asleep, she tried to be a big girl. Butch smiled. She was awful sweet, he thought.

  The next morning, they pulled into Hays City, Kansas—the last stop before returning to New York City. Any child that had not found a home would go back and start all over again, next month. The train would take a different route, stopping in other towns, in other states. As long as there were children in need, the Children’s Aid Society had vowed to run the trains.

  Evie knew this was her last chance to find a nice family to take her in, and she was determined to find someone here, in this dusty old town. She was not getting back on that train.

  Butch helped her down from the train platform—as he always did. He straightened her skirts, making sure her lame foot was well concealed, and took her small hand in his. After all, he was nine years old. He’d decided, back when he first tied her shoelace, that he would be her protector and get someone to take them both. Butch didn’t feel right leaving her all alone.

  In Hays City, the children knew the drill. Those few remaining, stood in a neat row in front of the platform and allowed the folks to inspect their teeth and anything else they wanted to see before making their selections. After standing for more than an hour, in the blazing hot sun, it was obvious that Evie and Butch would be going back to New York—together.

  “It won’t be tho bad, Butch. We can thtay together,” she lisped encouragingly, as she patted his scrawny shoulder,

  Butch grinned. He knew Evie was scared to be left alone and he was content to stay with her. “I d-d-didn’t want to live here, anyway,” he cajoled. “I like the big city.” Well, that wasn’t precisely true, and she knew it, but he was trying to make light of their situation.

  Evie placed her small hand in his, and just as they all turned to get back on that awful train, a wagon was heard speeding up to the platform, raising a red cloud of dust behind it. A tall man hollered out, “Stop! Stop the train!”

  He rushed quickly to the other side of the wagon and helped his wife down from the seat. They hurried to where the last two children stood along side their caretakers.

  “Thank God, we’re not too late,” the man exclaimed. “My missus and I had wagon trouble, a far piece back, and thought we’d be too late, fer sure. Are these here youngins the last two?”

  “Yes, sir. All the other children have found good Christian homes. These two will be going back to New York,” Mrs. Smith replied curtly.

  “Oh, no! Please,” the woman begged. “We want a child. We’re gettin’ on in years and we want to raise a child. Can’t we have the boy? My husband has always wanted a son.”

  Standing before him, the kind woman inquired, “What is your name, boy?”

  “Butch,” he said reluctantly.

  A look of terror crossed Evie’s face. They were going to take Butch away from her, and then she really would be alone. She had to do something to stop them. Maybe she could scare them off. Evie awkwardly hobbled forward as quickly as she could manage, and made the most ferocious face she knew how to make, and growled. Before she knew it, she had kicked the woman in the shins. It was an afterthought and not too well thought out.

  “What?” the lady screamed. She was startled, but unhurt. “What’s this all about, child? Is he your brother?”

  Evie’s blue eyes were huge. Never in her life had she acted so badly. She turned her head and silently beseeched Butch to save her.

  Butch’s mouth was hanging open in shock. He obviously didn’t know what to do. This little friend had attacked the woman that could become his new ma. How should he respond?

  The fat matron pushed Evie aside, causing her to stumble and fall, and placed herself directly in front of the woman and her husband. “The girl is definitely not his sister. She’s simply jealous that you chose him, instead of her. She’s not a very pleasant child . . . lame, you know,” the woman whispered loudly. “I don’t know what we’ll do with her. Nobody wants her. The brat’s incorrigible.”

  The matron took the adoption forms from her case and shoved them at the couple. “Just sign these papers, or make your X, and the boy’s yours. By the way, ‘Butch’ is not his Christian name.”

  Evie stood back, rubbing her bruised knee, and silently watched the adults make an enormous fuss over her best friend. They had totally forgotten about the lame child, standing off by herself. Evie knew this might be her only chance. While they were busy gathering Butch’s things, she slipped under the train platform and hid the best she could. She found an old feed sack large enough to allow her to crawl inside. Through all the commotion, she thought she heard Butch ask for her, but no one was listening to him, either.

  After the wagon rolled away, the two caretakers boarded the train—never once looking over their shoulders for the missing child. They were too busy congratulating themselves with the departure of the last orphan. The big locomotive blew its whistle and lurched forward.

  Evie remembered Miss Martha, wistfully. The lady had been kind to her and was always telling her how smart she was. But, even so, Evie was glad to be off that train and away from the people that didn’t care about her. It was returning to New York without her. She smiled to herself as she heard the sound of the whistle blowing in the distance. Filled with happiness at suddenly being free, her little body quivered with excitement. Hopefully, no one would notice she was gone until it was too late to turn back.

  *

  It had been almost two days since the train left the depot, and Evie was finally convinced that it was not going to return for her. She wondered if the matrons ever missed her, or were they simply happy she was gone? The only problem she had now, was finding something to eat. She’d had nothing in her stomach since she left the train, except for one apple she’d stuffed into her pocket. Her tummy hurt and she was starting to feel ill. A cup of milk would taste mighty good.

  Evie pretended to be invisible, as she cautiously made her way through town. She skirted along the backside of the businesses, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. There, she found some smelly things, but nothing she could eat. As her strength evaporated, she took refuge under an old broken wagon, leaning up against a dilapidated fence. Feeling hungry, frightened, and terribly alone, she began to fight back her tears. She missed her friend, and her mama and papa.

  “Butch,” she sighed, “where are you? I mith you.” Evie wiped her nose on her sleeve as she fought back the sniffles. “I’m thcared and I want you to thing to me.”

  Suddenly, she felt something wet push against her arm, forcing her to open her eyes. There, at the end of her nose, were the biggest brown eyes she had ever seen, and they were staring into her own. The dog’s nose was black and wet, and his mouth looked as if it was smiling at her. He surely wasn’t going to eat her. He wagged his tail in greeting.

  Evie squealed, “Oh, you’re tho beautiful!
Do you live here?”

  The huge dog pushed her with his nose, obviously trying to get her to move. She giggled with delight at his playfulness.

  The dog gave a soft bark, backed out from under the wagon, and stood waiting.

  Evie sat motionless, trying to understand what the big animal wanted. He barked softly again.

  “You want me to follow you?”

  He wagged his tail.

  Soon, the huge brown and white dog was slowly leading the little crippled girl down the back alley to his favorite spot, in all of Hays City: the rear of the Six Gun Saloon. It was a veritable smorgasbord. He stood patiently, wagging his tail and waiting for the little girl to approve—and approve, she did.

  Evie whooped with joy! “Oh, ith food! I love you, you old dog.” She threw her skinny arms around his wooly neck. “I’m going to call you Pete. Thank you, Pete.”

  He answered with a very wet lick across her happy face.

  She started picking through the food they had found. Pete did too, though he was much less discerning than she, eating just about anything he touched. Evie winced at some of his choices, but soon, she was too caught up in her own epicurean delights, to think much about his.

  She was still picking through the treasure trove of goodness, when she failed to notice the back door of the saloon open. A very large man, with no hair on his head, stood there, with his massive arms crossed over his chest, while he stared down at the little girl and the big dog rummaging through the garbage.

  “What on earth is this?” he bellowed. Quickly, he disappeared back inside, and after only a few moments, a tall woman with bright red hair, descended upon the duo.

  “Well, my stars,” she exclaimed loudly. Her face was stern and her eyes sharply focused. “Two little beggars goin’ through my trash. What is this world coming too? What’s your name, girl?” The tone of her voice demanded an answer.